Broken Crown
by hedaofchaos
Summary: Thomas, the unwilling heir to the throne equipped with a, for his kind untypical, sense of righteousness. Newt, courageous human suffering from the oppression of Thomas' kind. Despite their very different lives they realise that one thing holds them together - a mutual strive for freedom, paving the way for an extraordinary bond that ignites a spark of hope among the people.
1. Turning Eighteen

He regarded the figure in front of him thoroughly. The white linen shirt hung loosely from the person's muscular frame, its open collar revealing a hint of dark chest hair. As he lifted his gaze, it met a pair of eyes staring intently back at him – two pitch-black orbs mirroring the gloominess and dread he felt inside. He found the sight before him strangely alien.

"Who are you?", he uttered his thoughts aloud and waited, as if expecting an answer. Naturally, none came. Thomas took one last glimpse at the man before he tore his eyes away from his reflection, the feeling of apprehension spreading gradually.

 _Soliloquising, huh? Great. It is evident then._

 _I'm going bonkers. Once and for all._

* * *

 _Be at the dungeon at ninth bell_ , Father had ordered the night before. Even though he had strained himself to sound as indifferent as ever, he couldn't quite conceal his excitement. And he had every right to feel this way - it was his son's eighteenth natal day after all. Each and every Void looked forward to this crucial point in their lives, counting down the days, even. And now the Prince himself was granted the honour to finally unfold his true nature, the epitome of his race's legacy.

But Thomas couldn't exactly share the enthusiasm.

In fact, he hated it. Despised it with every fibre of his being. He had dreaded the advent of this day for as long as he could remember, and now it was here. And there was nothing Thomas could do to escape his fate – like one couldn't prevent sunrise in the mornings and sunset in the evenings. So, instead of prolonging the inevitable any longer, he adjusted the ebony vest he slipped on a few minutes ago and threw on his robe, a dark crimson of colour. He didn't care to check his appearance as he composed himself and stalked out of his chambers, his trained walk giving off calmness and pride – contrasting the turmoil inside his head.

Thomas descended the seemingly infinite spiral stairways, shortening the distance to a place he usually avoided at all costs with every step he took. The only sounds echoing through the hallways were the _tap tap tap_ of his reinforced leather boots. The noise didn't overlap the deafening thoughts inside his head though, much to his dismay.

 _Wrong. This is wrong. So wrong._

 _This is who you are, Thomas. You can't allow yourself to be such a weakling, you're the Prince for heaven's sake!_

Daylight dwindled with each floor he left behind. He reached a level that must have been right above the basement, its only source of light provided by several torches attached to the massive walls. He gathered all his courage and took a deep breath before setting about the last flight of steps, ignoring the conflicted thoughts. Thomas caught sight of a figure, presumably waiting for his arrival.

"Your Grace," the guard greeted him with a deep and respectful bow, his eyes black as night. Thomas responded with a slight nod of his head. The man fumbled with the lock of the heavy gate and once it was opened, he led the way to Thomas' assigned cell. Although they passed a great number of a cells – too many to count – the dungeon was weighed down by an eerie silence. Thomas shuddered and it wasn't due to the low temperature of this place.

The cell was located at the very end of the corridor. The guard unlocked the door and turned the handle, stepping aside for the Prince to make his way inside. Before he could do so, the man handed Thomas a torch. "He is one of the youngest," he spoke up, a certain sentiment lacing his voice – _envy_ maybe? "You're going to enjoy this, your Grace." Thomas did his best to deter himself from flinching at the words of this man.

 _The youngest are the greatest gift of all_ \- his Mentor had told him once during class - _for their spirits are strong and hard to break. Not many are granted this privilege._

But he was. Because he was the goddamn he didn't even want it.

 _Nope, I'm certainly not going to enjoy this, thank you very much._

He thought of the person that awaited him inside this cell. The only purpose of the human's life was living up to this moment. Thomas assumed that the boy had been assigned to him ever since they discovered the poor bastard. Probably even told him what an honour it was to be tortured by freaking _royalty_. One thing was certain: The boy dreaded this at least as much as he did.

Thomas took a step into the darkness, the flames illuminating the small space and casting shadows onto the walls. As he took another one, he heard the door clicking shut and he didn't need to turn around to know that the guard hadn't followed him inside. Gulping, Thomas dared to examine the presence in front of him closely.

What he saw took him completely by surprise.

Thomas was not going to lie; he expected a frightened to death human, trembling like a trapped animal. Instead, the view in front of him bared no sign of fear. Although his hands and feet were chained up in a way to make his body form an X, his straight posture and head held high made the boy almost looked intimidating. Strands of dirty blond hair covered parts of his left eye and, oddly enough, he itched to tuck them behind his ear. Though Thomas was sure the captive would have killed him right there for if he had done that. He fixed his gaze on two amber-coloured eyes boring into his, revealing one prominent emotion: a deep-rooted, blazing hatred that made Thomas worry about burning himself by looking any longer.

And this rage was directed at him.

Even though he didn't even _know_ him.

 _He has every right to hate me,_ Thomas thought, _I'm the reason he's in this mess._

Years and years of training led up to this moment, having mastered the fine craft of psychological torture to perfection. And now he simply couldn't do it.

The blonde raised his eyebrow at the Prince, assumedly questioning his lack of words. Thomas took one last look at the boy before turning around and rushing out of the cell, heading back for his chambers.


	2. The Reaper and the Harvest

His strength was slowly but surely fading. He hung limply from the chains attached to his arms, the unbearable strain on his limbs causing him to groan at the faintest stir. The iron cuffs were digging into the aching skin of his wrists, no doubt leaving permanent marks. But it didn't matter. Nothing did anymore. He would be going through hell only to meet death at the end of it all. So why bother with something as petty as physical pain?

His mind wandered to his first encounter with the Reaper. How much time had passed since then? Hours? Days? Newt couldn't tell – the cell was windowless, which made it hard to distinguish day from night, and he could never really rely on his sense of time to boot. Time seemed to have ceased existing the moment he woke up in this place.  
Newt had barely managed to take in the man's physique, blinded by sheer anger the moment this _monster_ had stepped inside the cell. What he had registered though was a shiny object pinned to the Void's right chest, holding in place a white velvet piece of cloth thrown over his shoulder. The pin was a golden shaped bird – Newt didn't recognise which bird though. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for it next time.

The conversation with the old man he had shared chains with popped up in his mind.  
 _"All you can do is pray to the gods that your Reaper isn't going to be a Legate, boy_. _They won't stop until you're broken beyond repair_."  
A Legate didn't carry pins or any pieces of jewellery as far as he knew. Besides, he looked too young for a rank like that. Who was he, then?  
Newt shook his head. _Doesn't matter, Void is Void.  
_ Either way, he was doomed.

He dwelt on the memory of the old man. Where would he be at this moment? Frankly, Newt knew exactly what happened to him but he pushed the thought away. _  
"The only thing they can't take away from us is the undeniable certainty of death.  
Remember this, child, and you will learn to embrace your fear instead of letting it consume you."_

Lost in thoughts, Newt was completely unaware of the sound of footsteps headed for his cell.  
As the door burst open, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Ridden by a rush of adrenaline the blonde regained enough strength to straighten up, body going rigid. A searing pain radiated from his back, spreading from his torso to his thighs. Newt bit his tongue hard to stifle a groan of pain, causing him to draw blood. The metallic taste made him nauseous.  
He didn't need to look up to know who it was. Despite the warmth spreading through Newt's body, its heat coming from the flickering flames of a torch, he shivered.  
Newt noticed him standing way closer than before, his whole appearance now clearly visible. Raising his gaze just enough to bring the glimmering object into focus, he could now eye it properly; its beak undoubtedly belonged to a raven.  
 _A golden raven?_

After taking a few more hesitant steps he stood right before Newt, the heat of the torch almost scorching his body. The blonde held his breath and lifted his head sharply. Once on eye-level with the brunette, he looked into a vast darkness that made him feel like in a daze. Suddenly, the blackness turned into a star-dotted night sky.  
The signs alarmed him – they were clear symptoms of losing consciousness.

Without a warning, the pressure on his arms was alleviated and his feet gave out. He felt himself crumpling to the ground, but before he could hit concrete Newt's body was being sustained and gently laid down on his stomach. His eyes were stinging with tears from the excruciating pain, blurring his vision.  
He felt his tunic being lifted softly, his bare back exposed to the chilly air.

"They whipped you," the brunette breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

 _He knows. I'm screwed._

"You-you're losing blood. A lot."

Newt felt light-headed; all he could perceive were muffled sounds.

A shuffling of feet.

The slam of a door.

He opened his eyes, and found himself alone in his cell.

 _He's leaving me to die._

He closed his eyes again.

 _I'm going to die._

Again, the slam of the door.

 _I don't want to die._

Frantic shuffling of feet.

 _Please don't let me die._

The faint sound of splashing water.

 _I want to live._

"You're not going to die," a distant voice promised with sincerity.

Newt decided to trust that voice as he fell into blissful nothingness.

* * *

"Thank you, T."

The fog that had engulfed his mind slowly dissolved into thin air. His senses came back, and along with them his orientation. He felt something soft pressed against his cheek, supporting the weight of his head. The agonizing pain he had felt before he passed out was replaced by a dull soreness; still, Newt didn't dare to move.

"The herbs will reduce the inflammation; apply them once a day and the wounds will be gone in a week," an unfamiliar, female voice stated.

"And the pain? Can you get him more painkillers?"

"Thomas, what we did here was against the rules. If someone notices the missing- "

"No one will notice, alright? Just get the painkillers."

"Why do you even care? I don't understand why you would want to keep him alive. You can easily get another one if he dies. A better one," the girl questioned, irritated.

"Teresa." His voice was quiet and almost menacing. "Get the painkillers."

"But Tom- "

"That's an order."

Newt heard a sigh followed by the sound of the door being forcefully shut.  
He winced at the loud noise and opened his eyes, blinking. He took in the figure crouching right at his side, black orbs lingering on him.

"Are you okay?" The look on his face made Newt angry; he almost looked like he was _concerned_ about his wellbeing.

The girl was right. Why was he helping him? He couldn't help but wonder why this _Thomas_ behaved so unlike the other Voids. He hadn't even tried to hurt him yet.  
Newt desperately wanted to believe that he was different. That he would leave him alone.  
But the reasonable part of him knew that what he hoped was a delusion. _Void is Void._ It was their nature.  
The echo of the old man's words sounded in his head.  
 _"Don't let them fool you, boy. They are tricksters. Frauds. Impostors. They will make you believe you are safe by offering you the most dangerous thing: hope; your juvenile naivety will make you cling on to it with your life.  
And that's the point where they have you in the palm of their hands."_

As he felt a hand on his shoulders Newt cringed away from the touch, making the brunette retreat his hand.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you, alright?

A tense silence fell over the room.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" He sounded almost desperate.  
As no reply came the Void heaved a defeated sigh before he rose to his feet, heading for the door.  
Newt didn't know what got into him, but when Thomas' hand was about to grab the handle his mouth worked faster than his mind.

"Newt," he blurted in a quiet voice, making the brunette wheel around in an instant.

"What?"

"Newt. My name is Newt."


	3. A Shot at Redemption

Tepid droplets of sweat trickled down his forehead, a strand of hair sticking to his skin. Thomas' grip was tight around the shaft of his sword, knuckles white from the strain. He sidestepped in a swift motion to dodge the blade slashing at his head, and it merely missed him by a hair's breadth. Usually, the brunette would have launched a counterattack by the time his opponent did no more than raise his sword; Thomas was undoubtedly one of the finest swordsmen in the kingdom, but today he even struggled with something as simple as defending himself, let alone parry the blows coming from his teacher.  
A second blow followed right after the first one, but this time Thomas was too slow; he managed just in time to block the attack, only to be met by an arcing sword that struck the blade out of his hands and sent it whirling. Losing balance, his back collided with the relentlessly hard ground, eliciting a groan of pain from the brunette. As he opened his eyes, the tip of a blade was pointing at him, its owner wearing a satisfied smirk on his face.

"You're slow, _hermano_ ," his Mentor stated matter-of-factly, right before he withdrew the weapon and slid it into the sheath attached to his waist. Thomas had gotten so accustomed to Jorge's behaviour that he often forgot this wasn't a well-deemed manner to approach royalty; he didn't mind though, in fact he preferred being treated like a _normal_ person. Those pretentious and forced formalities still felt strange to him somehow.  
Thomas grasped Jorge's outstretched hand and heaved himself to his feet, meeting the older man's eyes, brows furrowed and a puzzled expression adorning his features. Thomas felt uncomfortable under his intense stare, thus he lowered his gaze to fully devote his attention to the floor beneath him.

"Something is troubling you," Jorge asserted, voice laced with curiosity, "whatever it is, you must get hold of yourself. An occupied mind places you at a fatal disadvantage."

Thomas hesitated a few seconds before deciding to get the question that had been occupying his mind for weeks off his chest, considering Jorge was one of the few people he trusted, having known him since he was but a little boy.

"Jorge, do you believe that the way we treat humans is just? I mean… what gives us the right to use them as we please and rid them of their freedom?", he faltered while carefully lifting his head.

"I do not concern myself with matters as trivial as justice. What does interest me however, is a bulky bag filled with gold coins"

Seeming to have noticed Thomas' discontentment with his answer, Jorge added: "I am a well-travelled man, _hermano_. I have seen the free folk; they do not differ from us as much as we think they do."

"Free folk? Does that mean there are humans out there, free from our influence? How is that possible? I thought the kingdom is fully under our control- "

"Well, there used to be lands that remained untouched by us, but the King - your father - made sure this wouldn't last for long. However, one region did escape his grip; they call it _Safe Haven_. Rumour has it that no Void has ever set foot on that island, for it is told to be under a spell that grants access to solely humans."

Thomas needed a moment to process the information. How something like this could escape his notice was beyond his comprehension. Many questions were forming inside his head; his mind wandered to one certain blonde boy, and he settled on only one.

"Where is that place?"

"As I said, they are only rumours," Jorge replied, slowly but surely losing his patience, but Thomas was relentless; it was his only chance to make it right.

"Tell me. Please."

His teacher eyed him carefully. Thomas' interest in that matter had assumedly raised his suspicions, but he couldn't care less. He _needed_ to make it right.  
After a long silence, Jorge heaved a defeated sigh and caved in to the Prince's persistence.

"Fine. It's beyond the borders of the northern lands of the realm, but I cannot see why- "  
Before the older man could finish his sentence, Thomas had already turned on his heel and made for the staircase leading to the lower sections.

As he reached the entrance to the dungeon, he half-heartedly greeted the guard and jogged to the all too familiar cell. He impatiently fiddled with the keys in his hand until he finally found the fitting one and turned it in the lock. Thomas flung the door open, almost bursting with excitement, and held up the torch he had gathered on his way.  
"Newt, I- "  
Thomas choked on the word when he took in his surroundings, and he almost dropped the torch he held in his hands.

The cell was completely empty.

Panic invaded him, making straight thinking impossible. Where the hell was he? And most importantly, _was he okay_? Thomas was the only one who had the keys … well, except for his father, but what had he to do with this? It just wouldn't add up. A strange feeling unfolded in his gut, and all of a sudden he knew exactly where to look. It wasn't logical, not even in the slightest, but he decided to follow his instincts as he dashed outside the dungeon, heading for the servants' quarters.

Thomas didn't bother knocking on the door as he barged into the small room, feeling slightly relieved as he detected movement out of the corner of his eye.

"You do know that it is common courtesy to at least announce yourself before invading my personal space, being a Prince and all does not excuse your poor manners," a female voice chided him in a playful tone.  
Thomas' eyes followed the voice until he caught sight of his best friend sitting on the bed. The raven-black hair emphasised the colour of her flushed cheeks, and only then did he realise that her delicate body was just covered in undergarments, but he paid little heed to it.  
She seemed to have become aware of his agitated state as the lightness in her features was replaced by a concerned frown. She leaped up to her feet and approached the brunette in hasty steps.

"Tom, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Where is he?", Thomas enquired of the healer, his voice noticeably harsh and urgent.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Newt. Where is he?

Teresa wrinkled her nose in disgust upon hearing the name as she remarked: "If you're talking about your Harvest, he's where he belongs."

Thomas didn't know what came over him when he surged forward, backing her against the closest wall. He felt the anger building inside, barely able to restrain himself in order to impede any actions he would be regretting later on.  
"What have you done? Tell me right now!"

"Alright! Fine. I did it for you. Ever since that bast-… boy came in you seem to have changed. You barely smile anymore, and you look so… worried all the time. Whenever someone wants to talk to you, you just make up some excuse, that you're busy. Somehow I knew it had something to do with him, I became suspicious after you demanded me to help him. A human!  
So I followed you. At first I thought you spent all that time in the dungeon to torture him, but instead you were just… talking. To your Harvest. Treating him as if he were an equal. It went on like this for weeks, and you were only getting worse. I had to do something! So… I told him – I told the King."

She did w _hat?_  
Thomas couldn't believe that his own friend would betray him like this. If she really did tell his father, Newt's fate was sealed. He was overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions that ripped through him, ranging from worry and fear for the blonde to disappointment and hurt.  
Right now, there was only one thing to do.

"Tell me where he is," he demanded surprisingly calm.

"Tom, haven't you list- "

"TELL ME RIGHT NOW!"

"He's in a wagon with some other prisoners. They will be leaving tomorrow before sunrise. Wait, where are you going? Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm going to clean up the mess that you made. And you will not stop me from doing so, do you understand?", Thomas declared with regained composure before scurrying away, leaving a perplexed girl behind.


	4. Man or Monster?

Not even the faintest rays of light managed to penetrate the thick fabric of the blindfold, obscuring his vision completely. Newt was at a loss for what to do, and not knowing where he had been taken to only fuelled his frustration. What he did manage to perceive though was a faint breeze grazing his skin, leading him to conclude that he wasn't inside the castle anymore. The blonde itched to take off the piece of cloth leaving him like a mole, but any attempts at moving his arm were to no avail since the chains attached to his limbs rendered him immobile.  
Why was he here? If this was meant to be his final destination he was fine with it, as long as it would be over soon. For Newt, this uncertainty proved worse than the idea of imminent death.  
All of a sudden a stirring rage ignited inside him, making him rue the day he was born. None of this was fair. None of it. And he had only one to blame.

Thomas.

He loathed this _monster_ more than he ever thought he could; although technically the Void hadn't laid a finger on him, he still was the reason behind everything Newt had to endure after they took him away from his mother.

 _Mom._ The thought of her filled him with sadness and yearning for the way life had been before they caught him. Newt hoped dearly that at least his mother had made it, though the chances were tremendously slim.

The sound of a branch snapping not too far away tore him away from the memories, putting him in an alerted state. His nerves were on edge, which was the reason why his mouth worked faster than his brain.

"Who's there?", Newt raised his voice, surprised at how steady it was.

 _Idiot_. If someone was really here, he had just given away his location. _Smart move, Newt._

Suddenly, he felt a slight jolt that caused the ground underneath him to shift.  
"Who the hell are you? I swear to the gods if you won't reveal yourself I will bloody- "

"I don't really think you are in the position to make threats," an oddly familiar voice spoke lowly, sending shivers down his spine.  
 _Of bloody course._ Newt should have known he was behind it. _That bastard_.

"What the hell do you want from me? Why did you bring me here, huh?" The blonde couldn't contain his anger any longer.

"Shhh. Keep your voice down," Thomas chided in a whispering tone. Why would he care if anyone heard them? He was beyond confused now.

Newt heard a clattering of what he presumed were keys, followed right after by a creak of something heavy being moved. He automatically shifted away from the source of the sounds, in a desperate attempt to escape his captor, when he felt soft fingers fiddling with the blindfold wrapped around his head.  
The blonde expected to be greeted by dazzling daylight, as his eyes had already adjusted to utter darkness, but the only source of light was provided by a small lantern that Thomas was carrying in his hand. Curiosity overcame him as he stole a glance at the man, catching a glimpse of an emotion Newt couldn't quite decipher; he sensed that something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Newt, I need you to listen to me carefully. Can you do that? Please?"

The urgency lacing his voice should have alarmed him, but pride overtook reason.  
"And why would I want to listen to any bloody word _you_ have to say?", he hissed, spitting out the _you_ as if it were poison.

As Newt reared his head to shoot his Reaper a venomous glare, he almost regretted what he had said. _Almost._ For a moment, he thought the Void he was facing looked _human_ , the hurt expression adorning his features making him appear nearly vulnerable.  
All he had to do was look into the vast darkness that were his eyes to remind himself that the presence in front of him wasn't human at all, but a demon resembling one.

"Because," pitch-black eyes burning into his, "I'm your only chance at getting out of this place."

Now _you're talking_. "I'm listening."

"Jorge- ", Newt shot him an annoyed glance, "-my mentor told me about a place in the northern lands called _Safe Haven._ Ever heard about it?"

The blonde tried his best to conceal his surprise as the all too familiar name fell. "Just rumours," he lied through his teeth.

If Thomas had detected his lie, he didn't let on.  
"That's where we're headed."

" _We_?" If that before had been confusing, then this right now was complete madness.

"This is my only condition. I'm helping you out of here, but I'm coming with you," he spoke with such conviction that Newt nearly wanted to believe his words.  
A very reasonable voice told him off for being so blatantly stupid. _It's a trap, you moron_. The voice was right. Why on earth would he want to help him? There was no accountable reason at all.  
He wouldn't let himself be fooled.  
On the other hand, though, he was indeed his only chance at escaping this place. And maybe seeing his mother again.  
Then it occurred to him: Newt was at an advantage here; he knew it was a trap, and Thomas most certainly did not suspect that he knew.

He had to try. So he came up with a plan.

"Fine," he uttered finally, causing the other to blink at him incredulously, clearly taken aback by his seemingly poor contemplated answer. The brunette flashed a toothy grin, not even bothering to hide his joy.

Little did he know what Newt had in mind to do.

* * *

"Are you completely out of your mind?" The man Thomas affectionately called "mentor" apparently wasn't that fond of his plan. His restless pacing up and down gave him away.

"Jorge, please," the brunette pleaded, "you've helped me out before."

"That was nothing compared to what you are up to now. Thomas, you are the Prince, you can't just walk away as you please."

Wait. The Prince?  
 _He can't be, he's-_  
Then it hit him. It made all sense now; that was why he hadn't seen the raven-pin before.  
There had only been speculations about the royal family, particularly on how they look like, as they thought themselves too good for presenting their faces to their own people. Personally, Newt liked the version best where the King and his son were told to be hideous creatures with two heads. Frankly, he felt slightly disappointed.  
He didn't think he could loathe Thomas even more, but knowing his father was the reason for all the injustice his kind had suffered from made him want to strangle him in this instant.

 _Stick to the plan,_ a voice chided him.

"What would your father say when he finds out the heir to the throne has abandoned the kingdom to _save a human_?", Jorge remarked while throwing up his hands in despair. It was the first time since they got to his chamber that the man had acknowledged Newt's existence when he shot him an icy glare.

"I'm positive he'll find someone else to take my place."

The older man rubbed his temples, eyes closed. "I should have known the day would come. You have always been…different – but _hermano_ , this is insane. If they catch you, you will- "

"They won't," the boy cut him short.

It almost looked like his teacher was considering it. "As much as I care about you, I still do worry about my fate. When they get to hear that I helped you with this madness, your father will most certainly want to see my pretty head on a pike. And we both know I couldn't pull off the headless-style. What's in it for me?"

After a moment's hesitation Thomas put his left hand on his chest, ripping off the pin attached to his right. The crimson cape that had been held in place by the pin slid down his back, gliding smoothly to the ground. He handed it to Jorge, whose expression turned from scepticism to sheer greed.

"Here. Sell this and you will never have to worry about gold again."

He examined the raven-shaped pin lying in the palm of his hands closely, regarding it with an affection that made him look like he was gazing at his first born child.

"Are you sure about this?", Thomas' teacher queried as he looked up, his expression revealing a hint of uncertainty. The brunette replied with a confident nod, and Newt couldn't help but wonder: what was this guy up to?

 _I will find out soon enough._

After a moment of silence, Jorge's black eyes wandered to Newt, making him feel uncomfortable under the unyielding gaze; he inspected the blonde as if he were a puzzle to be solved.  
Finally, he broke the eye contact and wheeled around, retrieving two neatly folded pieces of clothing from a wooden box. As he held them out for the boys to take, Newt was able to identify them as cloaks.  
The brunette draped the garment elegantly around his shoulders and the blonde mirrored his action, clumsily knotting the cord hanging loosely down his chest.

"How are we getting out of here, Jorge? There's no way we can get past the guards."

"I always have an ace up my sleeves, _hermano,_ " he announced with a superior grin on his face as he took a step back to pull aside the carpet, revealing a trapdoor leading to a secret passageway.

"How-?", Thomas spoke Newt's mind.

"The passageway leads to the town's outskirts, right into the forest. You will find no guards there," Jorge explained, completely ignoring the boy's question.

The Prince approached him and put a hand on the elder man's shoulder, expressing his gratitude in a sincere manner. He turned to face Newt, encouraging him to take the first step and he did without hesitation. The blonde had grown impatient, knowing that freedom was finally awaiting him at the end of this tunnel. The thought alone had his stomach somersaulting with joy.  
Before Thomas could follow Newt's path though, Jorge pulled him back to say some last words he couldn't quite catch, as it was merely a whisper.

It almost seemed like Thomas was actually saying goodbye, as if he was leaving for real, as if this whole thing wasn't an act. As if this wasn't part of the Void's ultimate plan that would turn Newt into a mindless slave, numbed by the pain of having lost all hope.

It didn't matter though.

Because Newt was going to kill Thomas.

**** **author's note:** I will post one song that captures the essence of the story with each chapter, so for this chapter I recommend you to listen to _Man or a monster_ by _Zayde Wolf._ Thank you for reading x


End file.
